


The Case of the Nicked Knick-Knack: A Peacock and Nug Adventure

by Schattenriss



Series: The Contours of Shadows [12]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Crime Fighting, Den of Thieves, Detective Dorian, Humor, M/M, One Shot, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9342815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattenriss/pseuds/Schattenriss
Summary: A treasured heirloom has gone missing and it's up to Dorian and his loyal sidekick to find it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eureka234](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eureka234/gifts).



> Eureka 234 requested a story in which Dorian is annoyed with Kai and reaches out to Swivet for assistance. This is the result. Fits into the timeline of my Dorian/Kai fics some time shortly after _Traitor_.
> 
> As always, feedback is welcomed!

_“Fasta vass_ , that man!” Infuriated, I threw myself into a nearby armchair. It made a soft _phlumph_ as the cushions absorbed my impact. There was no resounding clatter or bone-rattling explosion to punctuate how annoyed I was. As a statement, it was highly unsatisfying. There was also no one to complain to, just the relative silence of late afternoon in the better section of Minrathous. A clock ticked on the mantel above the fireplace and a soft, cooling breeze wafted through the room courtesy of one of our bound spirits.

There should have been a few roiling storm clouds and a flourish of dramatic music at least.

Instead, I heard a small clattering of claws that announced the arrival of Swivet, our nug. He’d started out Kai’s nug, but against all expectations I’ve grown fond of the little fellow, creepy hand-like paws and all, and he seems equally fond of me. He stopped at the foot of my chair and squeaked inquiringly.

Oh dear, I suppose introductions are in order, aren’t they? 

I am Dorian Pavus, mage and scholar _extraordinaire,_ Magister, and maven of all things fashionable, cunning and otherwise exquisite.  Also astonishingly attractive and adept at alliteration.

The man I was so infuriated with was my amatus, Kai Trevelyan. He is also a mage of extraordinary talent. He is creative, fiercely intelligent, possessed of a well-developed sense of humour (and an equally well-developed body), and on occasion the most exasperating man on Thedas.

I looked down at Swivet and said, “Don’t tell me he’s driven you away too.”

He trilled, sitting up on his hind legs with that look he gets when he wants a boost up. I usually leave that level of coziness to Kai, but as I’ve established, Kai was being beastly. I gave him the boost.

He settled himself in my lap with a _chirrup_. I scratched him in the spot he likes between his ears. “I am not content to allow this situation to continue. I don’t even know what he’s in a sulk about. I don’t suppose he told you?”

Swivet didn’t know either. 

“Well he’s been unbearable for nearly two days now. We should do something about it. First I’ll try one more time to find out what his problem is. If he is not forthcoming, we shall force him out of this mood whether he likes it or not.”

With those brave words I stood and marched to the study where Kai was currently sulking, Swivet trotting alongside me. (He was probably just hoping someone would give him something to eat, but I chose to believe we were presenting a united front.) Kai was sitting in the most comfortable armchair, looking out the window and drinking beer.

“Amatus,” I said forcefully. 

He looked at me and gave a monosyllabic grunt. That had been his version of conversation for the past day and a half; it was pushing me to the end of my tether.

“We need to talk. This suggests you need to communicate in something other than grunts and sarcasm.”

He drank more before saying, “Fine. I’m listening. What.”

“If you intend to continue this lumpish behaviour I demand to know why. I’ve had houseplants that were better company. You’re even distressing your nug now.” Swivet obliged me by squeaking in agreement.

Kai’s dark grey eyes were expressionless as he took a drink of beer and I feared for a moment he might want to get nasty, but he sighed and said, “I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.”

I sat across from him. “Traditionally, the next line has something to do with your meeting someone else you’ve decided you can’t live without.”

He looked confused for a moment, bless him. “Wha- no! No, it’s nothing like that. I- it’s stupid.”

“I suggest you let me be the judge of that.”

He ran a hand across his head; it was a testament to his level of distraction that he’d let his hair grow out past the shadow-of-stubble stage. “I’ve lost my nug.”

Swivet squeaked again as I said, “Have you tried looking directly in front of you and slightly down?”

He twitched his lips in a sorry facsimile of a smile. “Not Swivet. I’m not surprised you don’t remember it. It’s a little silver statue of a nug. Danae made it for me after we met last year. I told her about Swivet and she thought that was about the cutest thing ever.”

A lot of history I won’t go into detail about, but Danae is his sister, younger than Kai by a good twelve years. They never knew each other when they were younger, what with his being whisked off to the Ostwick Circle before she’d so much as developed the ability to utter a coherent sentence. They’d finally met less than a year before when I’d managed to convince him to pay his parents a proper visit. She was in Antiva these days, training to be a silversmith much to the dismay of their parents.

“It’s got to be around. Where do you normally keep it?”

“On top of my dresser. And it’s not anywhere. I’ve looked.”

“You think it was stolen?”

He drank more. “I don’t know. I’m very afraid it has. It’s been sitting in the same spot for half a year and now it’s not. It was worth a little; it _is_ solid silver. I know it’s not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but I hate that it’s gone. _Venhedis,_ by now it’s probably been melted.”

At least now his behaviour made some sense. I’d get after him for not telling me straight out when something was bothering him if I hadn’t been guilty of the same thing on occasion. “Is there anything I can do? Should I be jollying you out of this mood?”

He managed a slight laugh. “No, I’ll get over it. Just… maybe let me alone a bit longer. I’m not done feeling bad yet and I’ll just be terrible company. I’m sorry I’ve been such a bastard lately.” At least his eyes had lost that dead look.

“Quite all right. Well. Not truly. You’ve been remarkably aggravating to be around. Now that I know what the problem is, at least I shan’t feel like I’ve made some transgression so abominable I’ve excised it from my memory.” I stood. “Come on, Swivet, let’s let Kai sulk, shall we?”

“I’m not sulking,” he called to me as we exited. I didn’t deign to answer, as we both knew that’s exactly what he was doing.

Swivet trill-clicked at me.

“You’re absolutely right,” I said. “We should find his nug. Not only would it make him happy, but we could uncover a thief that’s possibly been skulking in our very home. I refuse to believe it’s been melted. You realize we may have to brave seedy areas and seedier people if the thief doesn’t still have it.”

Swivet trilled agreeably.

“Then let’s do this. We shall rescue the silver nug from a molten demise and catch the bounder as well!”

**~~**

The first thing I did as an intrepid solver of crimes most foul was visit our bedroom.  There was a bound spirit there—part of our air regulating system—that may have seen something. I summoned it, hoping it was one with a modicum of intelligence. 

Those in the south who are aware of the bound spirits assume they’re another example of Evil Tevinter’s slave classes, but nothing could be further from the truth. The spirits are simple creatures, most of them. If they’re made to think too much or too quickly they get rather hostile, but if you give them a single task to perform they do it happily. A basic equation for the spirits is the simpler the task, the simpler the spirit. Keeping the air in a room both fresh and comfortably warm or cool demanded some degree of intelligence, wouldn’t you think?

The spirit made itself visible. Swivet growled deep in his throat, lowering his ears close to his skull. When he’d first seen a bound spirit he sounded his alarm yip and hid behind Kai. Now he was somewhat accustomed to them, but made his distaste for them clear.

I asked it about nug-stealing intruders only to discover it was a non-verbal spirit, communicating through projecting visual and emotional impressions. I asked again, combining my request with a small magical push of will to help it understand my intent.

 _Had it seen people in the bedroom?_ It had. It sent me impressions. I had to stop it and tell it _one at a time._ It obliged, communicating images of myself and Kai, of course, and a veritable rogue’s gallery of servants. All the images were oddly distorted but recognizable.  _Had it seen people at Kai’s dresser? Start with the most recent and go back in time. Slowly._ The first was Kai, obviously searching for his nug. _Don’t show him again,_ I told it. The next few were servants doing blameless things like dusting, then came our culprit. It was another servant, but not one I recognized. He looked middle-aged and human. He sauntered up to the dresser bold as you please, glanced over his shoulder then rifled through the things Kai had set on top. Along with the silver nug he’d taken part of a pile of coins then — _follow him, I commanded—_ gone over to my dresser where he’d added a silverite cloak fastener I thought I’d misplaced and a small dragon figurine made out of real dragon bone I hadn’t realized was missing.

I thanked and dismissed the spirit. Swivet gave a sharp yip as though he’d been the one to send it packing. “This is unconscionable,” I told him. “We don’t own slaves. We _pay_ these people and that gurgut’s behind _steals_? Fasta vass!”

Swivet squeaked in agreement.

I cast the small alert spell that would tell my major domo, Aurelia, I needed to speak with her. She arrived in minutes and I told her what I discovered. If anything, I think she was more upset than I. She left the room like vengeance personified, assuring me she’d have the man so quickly he wouldn’t know what hit him. 

I don’t know if she actually hit him, but in less than half an hour I was pacing with measured steps in front of the man, who was plopped on a wooden chair on the service porch (I’d quite forgotten we _had_ a service porch). I had little frissons of charged magelight playing about my hands and eyes as though I was barely containing some lethal spell, so great was my rage. Utter nonsense, of course, for all it looked ominous. There are times the legends of magisterial excess and cruelty come in handy.

“This is Romuald,” Aurelia said. “He was hired five months ago to assist in the kitchen. Instead he decided to help himself to an unknown number of household items.”

I turned my attention to the sweating man. He looked around forty, with long dark hair tied at the nape with a leather thong. His eyes were blandly blue and he was clean shaven.  I added a subtle nimbus of reddish-black to the magelight and gave him my best magisterial glare. “Tell me, what would possess you to do such a thing, Romuald? Do we not pay you enough? Do you have a sick wife or mother at home who needs frightfully expensive medications?”

He shook his head. “No, Dominus Pavus. I- I was just being stupid. I didn’t think anyone’d notice.”

“If you’d limited yourself to the kitchen you may have been correct. You stole things from our _bedroom_ , you dolt. Did you honestly think we wouldn’t _notice_?” I all but roared the last at him.

He flinched. “I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

“You weren’t thinking,” I repeated. “You throw the trust and largesse of this household to the wolves because you weren’t _thinking_? Where are they?”

He blinked. “Where’s what?”

“The things you stole, obviously,” Aurelia said, cuffing the back of his head.

“I don’t have ‘em.”

I leaned in close and said with dangerous cheer, “Then who does, Romuald?”

He went pale. “I take the stuff to a shop in the southeast quadrant. I dunno what they do with them.”

I straightened back up and made a show of studying my fingernails, a trick I’d seen the Archon do. “Tell us what shop, Romuald. While you’re at it, tell us everything else about this second career of yours. Who do you contact? What in the world do you use the money for? Be informative enough and you may walk out of here alive rather than leaving feet first. Do I make myself clear?”

It seems I did, because he told us everything. He’d been doing this for a while, getting hired into better households, stealing what he could and leaving again before anyone caught on. This time he’d gotten sloppy. He gave us the name of the shop where he took his ill-gotten goods, the names of his contacts, and the information that he did it “mostly for kicks and extra spending money.” When we’d finished I slapped a binding spell on him to keep him on the chair and instructed Aurelia to turn him over to the authorities. Chances were very good they’d indenture him until he worked off every cent of the value of the goods he stole, once they determined a total. I’d certainly provide them with an estimate.

Now that I knew where to find it, it was time to retrieve the silver nug.

**~~**

The important first step to any successful mission is, of course, the correct choice of wardrobe, so I headed straight to my dressing room, Swivet trotting beside me like a small valet. And yes, I have a dressing room. Kai contents himself with a large, walk-in closet that, given his insistence on wearing black (a sartorially venturesome day for him involves adding grey to his ensemble), all but screams _I am the night_ when you open it. As the tasteful, forward-thinking one, I have greater need for variety and space to store it. I have the money, so I have a dressing room.

Ironic, then, that for this particular adventure I was opting for a predominantly black motif, as I was expecting I’d need to look menacing.  I chose black trousers made of a rich, heavy weave rather than leather—leather can chafe. Knee-high black leather boots with more straps and buckles than would ever be necessary up the sides. I departed from the conventional uniform with a shirt of deep burgundy that complemented my complexion. It was a bit loose through the shoulders to accommodate ease of movement, but tight at the cuffs so as not to snag or interfere with one’s hands.  It being rather warm out, I went with a black jerkin of soft, light leather over top of the shirt. A light harness for my staff was the last component.  The outfit was more utilitarian than I like, but after being berated on my previous foray into the rougher parts of town last year for thinking the sparkly bits on my armour would be acceptable, I admit I must lower my sartorial standards to fit the world’s view of correct bad-assery.

Once I’d dressed, I checked my hair, made sure the points on my moustache were particularly pointy (to accentuate my ominousness), and picked my scariest-looking staff. Kai has gotten completely lackadaisical about even carrying a staff (though that started back when he lost his left forearm and carrying one became awkward for him so I suppose I can’t fault him), but I still like them.  Swivet sniffed the end of it and sneezed.

I strode to the front door. “Well, wish me luck,” I said to Swivet. He ran around me, blocking the door before I could turn the handle and made a noise like a goose being pulled backwards through a drainpipe. “You cannot come with me. This could be dangerous,” I objected. “Kai would never forgive me if you got killed.”

I swear the nug gave me a dirty look and stamped a foot _at_ me.

“You’re a nug. What could you possibly contribute if things get dicey?”

He sat down and repeated that outlandish noise.

“Will you stop making that noise if I say yes?”

His ears perked up at ‘yes’. He made a series of clicks that ended in a squeak.

“I don’t know how to interpret nug, but all right, come on.” I turned the handle as he stood and trilled. “It’s on your head if something happens that you can’t handle.”

He seemed unconcerned as he trotted out the door ahead of me.

**~~**

I’d decided to walk to this den of iniquity where our belongings were being held because I needed the exercise. It also gave me time to formulate plans and get into the proper frame of mind to take on hardened thieves. Kai occasionally behaves as though he has the corner on the badass market just because he spent a year doing rugged things like working as an outrider—and the shaved head and black wardrobe make people nervous—but I am capable of being ominous and unnerving too. In that respect, having a cheerful brown nug trotting along at my side wasn’t helping my image.

“You know, there’s a reason the Fereldans went with Mabari rather than nugs,” I told Swivet.

He made a ratcheting noise I suspect is nug for “Whatever.”

As we left our admittedly exclusive area of the city we were getting increasing numbers of people staring. It didn’t bother either one of us. I thought I cut quite the dramatic figure, and pet nugs aren’t very common (though our friend Leliana is trying to change that). If anything, I’d say we were likely the most interesting thing the majority of those people would see that day. I wasn’t concerned that someone might decide we were fair game for a criminal attack. In Tevinter, everyone knows better than to make a move on a mage carrying a battle staff.

We reached the southeast district, following Romuald’s excellent directions. It was a rougher area of town, overcrowded as most of Minrathous is, but hadn’t yet descended into squalor. Many of the shops still had magically enhanced signage, but the spells were wearing thin on some. The building we were heading for was an example—it was named _The Cheery Conjurer_ , but a lack of refreshing spells had renamed it _he he y Co rer_ as letters went dark.

There was a small café across the street from the _Co rer_ , so I got myself a tea and took a seat at one of the outdoor tables. The proprietor was a decent sort and brought Swivet a bowl of water he seemed to appreciate. I watched the shop. It seemed to sell alchemical and magical supplies; there were scads of them throughout the city, and many of them also did brisk business in contraband items of all sorts. This one wasn’t teeming with customers, but there was a regular trickle going in and out. I finished my tea and waited for a lull, which didn’t take long as evening drew closer.

**~~**

I entered the _Co rer_ to the sound of a bell attached just above the door. Swivet pushed ahead of me and set to sniffing everything. The shopkeeper, a skinny, leathery-skinned man with stringy, colourless hair and anomalously pretty blue eyes, said, “Help you, friend?” He was wearing an ill-fitting beige shirt with no collar, a brown vest that appeared to have last been laundered in the Blessed Age, and a pair of green trousers with an eye-wrenching plaid pattern stitched in bright blue. I don’t think he even noticed the nug, who blended in with the overall décor of dark, aged wood.

“I certainly hope so.” I strode to the counter, leaning in a bit to make him uncomfortable. “I’m told you have some things of mine. I want them back.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, friend. We sell here. Don’t buy nothing.”

“If you don’t know what I’m talking about then direct me to Lukas.”

He sucked in his cheeks. “Don’t know no Lukas neither. ‘Fraid I can’t help you, friend.”

“I am not your friend.” I let a bit of flame play around my fingertips. “Are you quite sure you wish to play this game?”

He gave me a cold stare. Those pretty eyes really did look out of place on that face. “Ain’t a game. You burn down my shop, I’ll let the authorities know it was unprovoked. I been nothing but polite to you. Just got nothin’ here but goods to sell.”

I had to give him credit for sheer unflappability. “What would it take for you to remember Lukas?” This time I used the universal persuader—gave him a peek at the inside of my money pouch.

He sucked in his cheeks again. “Wellnow. I’d say fifty would do wonders for my memory.”

“ _Fifty_?” I didn’t have to feign my shock.

He shrugged. “Judging by them expensive clothes, I’d say you can handle the hit.”

Blast. Hoist by my own impeccable taste. “Whether I can, as you say, _handle the hit_ or not is hardly the point. Your information is in no way worth that, particularly if you intend to tell me you still don’t know any Lukas.”

He blinked slowly then grinned. The scattering of teeth remaining in his mouth were horsey and stained a charming shade of brownish-yellow. “Maybe you ain’t as stupid as you look. Gimme ten and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Two now, six more if the information’s any use to me,” I countered, filing that _stupid as you look_ remark away for future reference.

“That ain’t ten.”

“How about that.”

He sighed. “Awright, I’ll take it. I don’t, you probably _will_ burn down my shop.”

I handed him the two. “Well?”

“ _I’m_ Lukas. This is my shop. I sell alchemical and magical supplies. Looks like you use them, so you see anything you want I’ll even give you a discount. But that’s all there is. Ain’t nothing else to say.”  
  
“That’s not how I heard it. From what I understand, you have a successful sideline in stolen goods.”

He snorted. “Don’t know who told you that. Have a look around.”

“What’s through the door behind you?”

“My quarters. Y’can look if you want.”

I did, and it was just as he said. There was no trap door or cleverly rotating bookshelf at the back of his quarters, just a pile of grubby clothes, all with colour combinations just as ghastly as those he was wearing. I searched the shop looking in the magical spectrum as well, but could find nothing out of place. There was a blank section next to the counter he was standing behind on the back wall, but I couldn’t see anything there either.

“Satisfied?” he said.

I felt like I was missing something, but… venhedis, it was frustrating.

“Can I have my other six now?” he persisted.

“I’ll give you another two. That’s more than it was worth.”

As I was fishing the money out of my pouch, Swivet ambled up to the back wall.

“What in the Black City is that?” Lukas said.

“He’s a nug. And if you touch him, you’re a dead man.” Swivet sat in front of the blank section of wall, staring at it like there was something worth seeing.

Lukas’s eyes flicked back and forth between the wall and me.

“Something wrong, Lukas? My nug seems very interested in that wall.” I put my money back in the pouch and joined Swivet. “Is something there, boy?”

Swivet gave a happy squeak, sitting up on his hind legs.

I checked more closely in the magical spectrum, removing my staff from its harness to cast a more focused light at the suspect wall. I finally saw what I’d missed before—a section that was a skillfully rendered illusion. “Why, Lukas! I’m crushed! You’ve been holding out on me. All this time you had this lovely illusion sitting here and you didn’t tell me about it!”

Lukas snarled but appeared to be at a loss for words.

“Well? Are you going to be a good host and dismiss the illusion so we can see what charming surprise you might be hiding? If not, I assure you I could do it for you, but it would involve blowing your back wall out.”

“Fine, if it’ll get you outta here faster,” he snapped. He picked up a small, round disc and fit it into a recessed spot in the wall behind him. The illusion faded away, revealing a door with no handle.

“Now was that so difficult?” I said. “I take it the door takes another magical trigger. Would you kindly? Or would you rather I take this one?”

He took a slim metal rod out of his pocket and slid it into a hole in the wall that was almost unnoticeable. There was a _snik_ and the door opened slightly. “Garn,” he said. “I just let ‘em use the shop and they give me a cut so’s far as I’m concerned, I’m shut of the rest of this. You want your kaffas, go get it.”

“A joy doing business with you, Lukas.” I touched the door and Swivet sounded his warning noise. He was looking from the door to me, ears straight at attention as he fidgeted.

“Why, Lukas, is there a little present that you didn’t tell me about?” I abruptly dropped my pleasant demeanour. “Open the door. I suggest you disarm whatever traps you have behind it.”

“I told you, I’m shut of it,” he said, looking from me to Swivet with pure venom.

“Then you’d better get _un_ shut. Perhaps you don’t comprehend how much trouble you’re in, Lukas. One of your thieves didn’t just steal from a wealthy family this time. They stole from a Magister.”

I got the satisfaction of watching all colour drain from his face, not that it improved his looks one whit.

“The Magister is, as you can imagine, quite unhappy about this. That is why he’s standing in front of you with his staff at the ready after his nug let him know you were going to try to kill him with a trap.”

You may wonder why he believed me. Simply put, one does not pretend to be a magister in Minrathous. _Someone_ will find out and be very angry with you, and most magisters aren’t as well-mannered and merciful as I. He babbled something that seemed to include the words _magister_ and _mercy_ surrounded by whining and strangled curses as he scuttled over to the door and opened it. I saw a steep, narrow stairway going down. He pressed a pattern into a disc affixed to the right hand wall. It pulsed once and turned a lovely shade of blue. “It’s safe now. I promise. All’s I do is let ‘em use the space, I swear.” Lukas backed out of the stairway and back behind his counter.

“You were going to watch that trap kill me, Lukas,” I said flatly. “Do you really think you should be allowed to get away with that?” I conjured a sparking ball of electricity in my right hand.

There’s just no delicate way to say this: Lukas took one look at that and his bowels decided they were through holding things in. He looked, if possible, even more mortified. I wrinkled my nose and Swivet made a noise like a rusty hinge. “Oh, for pity’s sake, go get cleaned up, Lukas. If there are any more traps you didn’t tell me about, you’ll wish I’d fired this at you.”

“Ain’t no more traps, but some of the boys are down there. They got knives, but not much else. I swear. Thank you, Magister.” Lukas fled awkwardly out the door to his quarters. I let him go. He’d punished himself badly enough.

I looked down at Swivet, who, it seemed, really could sense magic (Kai thought he could, but had never been entirely sure). “Well? Is it safe?”

He walked onto the landing and sniffed, ears rotating rather comically. He gave an amiable squeak and began carefully descending the narrow stairs. His body was not designed for them, so I picked him up and crept down. It was awkward, but better than alerting “the boys” with the sounds of a nug crashing down the staircase. “I hope you appreciate this,” I whispered.

He nuzzled my left ear; his nose was slightly wet and his whiskers tickled. As thank-yous went, it left a great deal to be desired.

**~~**

The stairs ended at a well-trodden landing. One had to take a hard left and travel down a short hallway to get to the rest of the basement. I set Swivet down and cast a _don’t notice me_ spell on both of us. We crept to the end of the hallway, where someone had hidden the dread goings-on we were no doubt going to encounter by hanging a curtain over the open doorway.  The way the light shone through the curtain suggested a man was standing directly in front of it.

While I am renowned for my dramatic and visually exciting approach to combat magic, I am capable of subtlety if the situation calls for it. Though the fellow outlined before us looked broad primarily as a result of never meeting a pastry he didn’t like, he was big enough to potentially pose a problem. I stayed on the other side of the curtain and cast an energy-sapping spell. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would make him very, very tired. Sure enough, within a few minutes he clumped away from the doorway. I heard a chair complain creakily as he settled his bulk onto it, and shortly after, his wheezily regular breathing suggested he was taking a nap.

I twitched back the curtain to behold a large room irregularly lit by a combination of lanterns and weak magelight that bespoke an underpowered and unskilled mage. It was filled with wooden tables, and on the tables were enough valuables that it looked like a high-class jumble sale. There was a long table against the back wall that held four small kilns (or is it a furnace when you’re melting metal? Forging is not my forte). There were two people in the room aside from our portly portal guard—a human woman with brown hair cut as short as one can before being declared bald (which made sense considering those furnaces) and a dwarven man who had similarly shorn black hair, but he’d rather missed the point as he also sported a large, bushy beard. They were both wearing loose-fitting, utilitarian work clothes of brown and off-white.  The woman was feeding a pile of gold figurines and jewelry into one of the little furnaces while the dwarf sorted through a pile of valuables at one of the tables.

“I’d say we’ve come to the right place,” I murmured. Swivet looked up at me and pushed through the curtain. No one seemed to notice. I didn’t think I’d be so lucky, as I’m far more eye-catching. But they say the best defence is a good offense, so I set out to be -ahem- maximally offensive.

I threw back the curtain and strode into the room saying, “Good afternoon! Are they ready?”

The woman stared at me as the dwarf said “Are _who_ ready? And who are you?”

“Not who, _what_. And I am a customer. I doubt you’re paid enough to be told more.”

That may have been the wrong thing to say. He glowered at me. “Seeing as I run things here, I’d say you’re talking out your ass, human.”

 _Oh well, in for a copper…_ “You expect me to believe that when you’re clad in _that_ outfit? Now, is there someone here who will give me my things or do I have to complain to upper management?”

“Who sent you here?” The dwarf jumped off the stool he’d been perched on, reached behind himself and produced a smallish but wicked-looking axe.

“Romuald, of course.”

The dwarf sneered. “That little worm? He told you you could buy things here?”

“He said this was the place to find everything. Now do you mind? I wish to browse.”

“I don’t think so, human. I think you wish to leave.” Behind him, the woman bent down and came up with a staff. It had a milky sphere at the top now glowing with baleful red light.

“I disagree. If yon lady thinks she wishes to engage in magical battle, she may want to reconsider.” I didn’t bother brandishing my staff yet, just conjured a sample fireball and discorporated it with a little thunderclap for extra emphasis. “I’m merely here for my things.”

“You keep saying that. You’re starting to bore me.”

“Then indulge me and alleviate your ennui. I-” 

Behind me, I heard Swivet’s alarm call. I was already casting as I turned, hitting my assailant with a highly charged terror spell (I didn’t want to use anything lethal in case Swivet was mistaken concerning their intent).  There was a shriek as the very large man dropped his very large sword and dashed the opposite direction to cower in a corner, awash in whatever nightmarish visions my spell had awakened in him. I wondered how I managed to miss him in my initial assessment of the area. Perhaps he’d had to make a trip to the little guardsman’s room.

The dwarf said, “What the stone is a nug doing here?”

The woman shouted, “Now you die!” conveniently warning me to cast a barrier spell which I did straightaway.

The guard I’d put to sleep opened his eyes and said, “Wozzat?” as the other guard let out another blood-curdling shriek.

The woman’s lightning spell bounced harmlessly off my barrier as the dwarf raised his axe and came running at me.

Something little and brown and low to the ground dashed in front of him, uttering a noise like a goose being pulled backwards through a drainpipe. The dwarf tripped over it with a shout, landing face-first on the stone floor. His axe went flying with a clatter.

I cast freezing at the woman, stopping her in mid-cast, hit the screaming guard with an extra dose of terror and immobilized the dwarf with a binding spell.

The heavy-set guard stood up and said, “Hey!” as the other guard screamed again, heaved himself to his feet and hurtled out of the basement and up the stairs. 

The woman shook off the freezing spell and brought her staff around to hit me with something undoubtedly unpleasant. Unfortunately, her reactions were still a bit off and she managed to swipe the staff across a nearby table, knocking its contents to the floor with a clatter (some of the heavier ones landed on the dwarf).  I hit her with another freezing spell as I strode to her and took her staff away.

Since it worked so well the first time, the heavy-set guard said, “Hey!” again.

I spun to face him. “Yes? Is there something you want?” From somewhere in front of me and under the table, Swivet made a noise like a rusty hinge creaking open violently.

The guard opened his mouth, at which point his mind caught up and closed it again. He shook his head and clumped through the curtain to friendlier realms.

“You know, it’s sadly true,” I told Swivet as I helped myself to a few lengths of rope I found on a worktable. “Good manners are increasingly hard to come by.” I trussed up the dwarf first, setting him in the guard’s vacated chair before releasing my binding spell. “It’s a pity, really. Imagine how much more pleasantly this day would have gone for everyone if they’d just evinced some common courtesy.”

Swivet trilled as he sniffed the trinkets that had fallen on the floor.

I tied the woman’s hands behind her back before sitting her down on her own chair. She blinked at me. It was really all she could do until she thawed. “Next time you challenge another mage, you may want to take a moment to assess their ability first,” I told her. “Failing that, you could at least be polite. _Now you die_ is both rude and unforgivably clichéd.”

Swivet squeaked.

“True. It was also inaccurate. Now, if you were Kai’s silver nug, where would you be hiding?”

There was a veritable treasure trove of valuable trinkets and jewelry in that room; clearly Romuald was not their only procurer. I would, of course, inform the authorities when I left. I was only looking for the nug, and if I happened to find my cloak fastener and dragon figurine, so much the better.

“They’d better not have melted it already,” I said to Swivet. The nug trill-clicked back, picking up something round and undoubtedly priceless in one hand-like paw. He brought it to his mouth and essayed a bite, looking disappointed when it turned out to be inedible.

I drifted  along the tables, searching for Kai’s nug. To my surprise, I ran across my little dragon figurine first. I pocketed it and continued on.

“You’re not gonna get away with this, mage,” the dwarf intoned.

I smiled at him. “Actually, I am. You see, I’m not just a mage. Romuald brought you goods liberated from a Magister (that would be me in case you’re confused). Also, I’m quite sure I recognize a few items belonging to colleagues of mine. I’m sure they’ll be interested in knowing who acquired them.”

The dwarf blanched. 

“Since you told me you’re in charge, I’ll need your name.” I looked at him expectantly.

“I -uh- I’m not actually in charge,” he stammered. “They just pay me to oversee the fencing operation.”

“Then you’ll be able to tell me who is in charge! I must warn you, attempts at revenge on the part of your employers would not end happily for them.” 

He shook his head—whether it was unwillingness to talk or in negation of his situation I’m not sure.

“Well, you think about it,” I said. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen a silver nug figurine, would you?”

“Third table on your right if Izzy hasn’t already melted it. Silver’s a low priority metal.”

Izzy was the mage, I assumed. She’d thawed, if her colour was any indication, but was sensibly keeping her mouth shut. I went to the third table on my right and searched methodically through the pile of silver trinkets. I found Kai’s nug hiding under a lovely little mesh purse. I put it inside the purse and pocketed both.

“You know, if you’d just let me do this in the first place, you wouldn’t be trussed up on those chairs right now,” I chided both of them. I turned my attention to Izzy. “You wouldn’t be able to tell me the whereabouts of a silverite cloak fastener, would you?”

Her eyes were wide and frightened as she whispered, “Melted.”

I _tsk_ ed at her. “Well, that is disappointing. Someone owes me a silverite cloak fastener. I don’t have time right now, but I will send someone round to collect either a replacement or something of equal value, and I expect a proper replacement, not one stolen from someone else. Do tell your employers, would you?”

Her head bobbed emphatically.

“Well, then, I think the authorities can handle the rest of this. There are places I must be. Swivet?” Our nug squeaked and trotted up to me. “Ready to go? Good. I won’t say it’s been pleasant to meet the both of you, but it’s been an experience. Do rethink your career choices, would you?” 

I strode through the curtain, Swivet madly dashing to get in front of me and be first. A moment later he stopped with a dismayed squeak as the steep stairs proved to be more than he could gracefully handle. With a sigh I picked him up, depositing him on the upstairs landing. He trilled and went through the door first.

I’d been half expecting the guards to have set up an ambush, but it seemed their employers weren’t paying them enough for that degree of loyalty.  I heard a door creak as Lukas stuck his head out from the safety of his quarters.

“All cleaned up now?” I asked. “I’ll be sending someone round to collect the items in your basement; I trust you’ll ensure they remain where they are. I’ll even give you some free advice—that plaid is a crime against people everywhere. You really shouldn’t wear it.”

The bell _ting_ ed as we exited the shop. I warded the door locked and went to the nearest headquarters of the city Watch. Once they confirmed who I was, they responded with alacrity to my information about the thieves’ ring that had been operating right under their noses.

**~~**

We enjoyed a pleasant evening walk back home, arriving with the last vestiges of sunlight. Magically-generated lights came on in the house, looking warm and inviting. I closed the front door behind us. Swivet gave an interrogatory squeak.

“I know you’re hungry, but first we need to find Kai.”

He sniffed the air, walked farther into the room, sniffed again and trilled. I followed him as he headed to the little balcony where we often breakfast. I indulged him in his endless determination to be first through all doorways.

Kai was sitting at the table, a half-consumed cup of coffee next to him. Swivet dashed up to him, squeaking importantly. “Where have _you_ been?” Kai asked him.

“ _We_ have been brilliantly foiling criminal enterprises in the name of your happiness and our domestic bliss,” I announced.

“You’ve been what?”

I sat in the other chair and pulled the mesh purse out of my pocket, presenting it to him with a little magical flourish of colour and sparks.

He gave me a tentative smile. “I don’t really go in for purses, love.”

“Perhaps you’d prefer what’s in it,” I suggested.

He glanced at me and opened it. His eyes widened, a real smile lighting his face as he extracted the little silver nug. “Maker’s breath, how…where did you find this?”

“I shall regale you with the story in thrilling detail once we’ve washed up and eaten. I’ll have you know that Swivet and I were quite heroic today.”

He laughed a small, charmingly confused laugh. “You and _Swivet_?”

Swivet squeaked again and butted his head against Kai’s leg, demanding some congratulatory pats. 

Kai obliged, saying, “I can’t wait to hear this. I’m…I’m sorry I’ve been such a beast lately.”

I grinned. “I expect both apologies and thanks from you tonight.”

As Kai went to place his silver nug back on his dresser, I alerted the kitchen of our readiness for dinner.

**~~**

That night Swivet got rabbit stew (his favourite) and retired satiated to the point where he could barely waddle to his bed.

I got Kai’s apologies _and_ thanks, and they were most heartfelt and enthusiastic, leaving us both happily exhausted (not to mention satiated in a different way).

And peace once again reigned over our little corner of Minrathous, thanks to the intrepid investigative team of Peacock and Nug.


End file.
